A Tad Out Of Hand
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Molly needs a 'boyfriend' for a weekend at her mother's. Sherlock agrees then things get all kinds of complicated. A gift for sherlockian87.
1. A Favour

_So, I'm always talking about friendships in this fandom and how much people mean to me. Sherlockian87 (thesecitystreets on tumblr, or Streets as I call her) has always been amazingly supportive, one of my dearest friends. Back when I first started writing she was one of the first people who reviewed my fics. She was simply lovely and always has been. I've been working on this for a while because I wanted it just right for her._

 _I love you Streets. I hope you like your story. I put a few surprises in here for you._

 _Huge thanks go to MizJoely for betaing this story and for her encouragement. Also to MrsMCrieff who, bless her, helped me with a ton of Brit business._

 _No real warnings except perhaps some cannon typical violence and oh, yes... sex!_

 _I own nothing except any mistakes you might find. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - A Favour -**

* * *

" _Sherlock_!" Molly said loudly as she entered the lab, causing him to look up from the bacteria he was studying.

He immediately returned to his work. "Yes Molly."

"You owe me. You owe me big!" she stated, as if he was supposed to understand what she was talking about.

It did get his attention, however. "O-kay… what for?"

Once she was standing right next to him she continued, "You know, the endless supply of body parts, my constant assistance with your 'experiments'..." She put her fingers in the air making quote marks around the word "...and let's not forget the whole helping fake your death thing. I could have been fired or arrested or murdered… or worse."

"What's worse than murdered?"

She huffed. "Oh, never mind. The point is, you owe me!"

He crossed his arms, leaned back and said, "Fine, I'll bite. What is it you want, Molly?"

She drew herself up to her full five foot four inches and straightened her back before she started. "My mother, horrible woman, has gotten herself a new boyfriend. She's been demanding I visit her in Reading. I've put her off as long as I can but if I don't go see her she'll just come here. I'm going this weekend, well, I'm leaving tomorrow and coming back on Monday. And...and… I need you to come with me. I've already called John, Greg, _and_ your brother so you can't lie and say that you're working, because I know you are _not_. If you had any cases via your site you wouldn't be here playing with spores." She waved her hand toward the microscope. "You've got nothing on. _Nothing_. My mother is relentless. Constantly reminding me just _how_ single I am. You, my friend, are going to pretend to be my boyfriend. Shouldn't be hard, you've done it before after all. I'm not showing up at that woman's house with no man on my arm."

She shuddered. "Also, this man she's dating… he's younger than her, much younger. Though she won't tell me _how_ much, which tells me she's gone and gotten herself a bloody teenager. He's _American,_ " She rolled her eyes. "and I want you to deduce the ever livin' hell out of him! Our relationship shouldn't be hard to sell, she knows I used to be _mad for you_ ," she said the words as if she was actually insane and shook her head. "I've already bought the train tickets. You'll meet me at Paddington at 11.30 tomorrow morning and be on your best behaviour so they don't suspect anything. When we figure out this weirdo's plan, I'll deal with mum and you can deal with him. Any questions?"

Sherlock just shook his head before Molly turned and walked back out the way she came. _I really need to update my website_ , he thought as he watched her leave.

* * *

Ten minutes into the train ride Molly had her laptop out and was furiously typing. Sherlock tried to ignore it. The taps weren't difficult; her huffs of frustration, however, were impossible to overlook. "What the devil are you doing?"

"Working on a paper," she said without looking up.

He looked over and started reading. Pointing to the screen he said, "You missed a comma there." Reading… then more pointing. "That's a sentence fragment." Reading… "It's t-o-o not t-o. Bloody hell, Molly. I've read all of your papers. You never make mistakes like this!"

She frowned at him. "Stop reading over my shoulder. It's a rough draft!" she said as she made the corrections. "Hold on, you've read _all of_ my papers?"

He looked away and mumbled, "Of course I have."

"Well, if you get bored this weekend, which you undoubtedly will, I'll let you proof this one."

He heard the barely concealed glee in her voice and only responded with a nod.

Half an hour later she put away her computer and turned to him. "So, we need a story."

"What sort of story, exactly?" he asked, knowing what she was talking about, but not able to resist goading her.

" _Our_ story, you idiot! How we met, started dating, that kind of stuff."

"You've told your mother about me, undoubtedly, so our meeting is already established. As for the rest I think it best if you let me, the professional, handle it."

"Of course. You're practiced at this kind of thing."

He smiled. "That _is_ why you asked for my help, is it not?"

She rested her head on her seat and sighed. "I suppose. Argh! This is going to be awful!"

"I thought the point of bringing me was to make it _less_ awful."

"It's still my mother and her boy-toy." She shuddered.

He smirked. "It'll be fine, Molly."

"Yeah, you say that because you have lovely parents. My mother is a fecking monster!"

"Mummy is a menace. I avoid Surrey like it's the Seventh Gate of Hell," he said.

"I'd take Violet Holmes over Jacqueline Hooper any day!"

Sherlock soon learned exactly what Molly meant. Jacqueline Hooper was indeed horrible. She was obnoxious, critical and overly flirtatious. As he sat across from the woman he silently deduced her… _Fifty-nine, five...no six cosmetic surgeries. Rhinoplasty, chin implant, two facelifts, breast implants and something altogether_ unholy _happened with those lips. Lightens her hair. Actual colour is closer to Molly's_. He squinted. _Though with a touch of grey. He would have continued but was pulled out of his thoughts by an elbow to his ribs._

"What was that?" he asked looking from Molly to her mother to the _young_ man who was hanging off of her.

"Mother asked if you enjoyed the train ride, Sherlock," Molly said.

"Ah," He put down his tea cup. "Yes, it was... pleasant."

"I avoid the train whenever possible," Mrs. Hooper said.

"I would have been happy to hire a car, but Molly had already made all the plans," he explained.

"Oh Molly," her mother said as she stood up and picked up some of the empty tea cups. "So head-strong. When will you learn that men don't like women who have to be in charge all the time? Never could act like a proper lady, this one," her mother admonished.

Molly seemed unaffected; her only response was a quick eye roll before standing up and assisting her mother.

"So… Tad, was it? What is it you do for a living?" Sherlock asked, directing the conversation to the American on the sofa.

"I'm a venture capitalist," he replied with a glint in his eye.

 _Oh, this is too easy._ "What does that entail, exactly?" Sherlock asked, wondering how this obvious swindler would choose to answer the question.

"Well I invest in or provide the capital to start up small companies who want to expand but don't have access to the equities markets," he explained.

The fool had just given Sherlock the _actual_ definition of the term; as if he'd simply looked it up and memorized it. He chuckled internally. If this were a case, which it sort of was, it'd barely be a three. He nodded as if he were truly interested. "And what companies have you invested in recently?"

"Oh, that would be a breach of confidentiality, Mr. Holmes."

"Of course," Sherlock said with a smile. _Not really, you lying moron_. "Please call me Sherlock. We're practically family, after all."

Tad nodded enthusiastically.

"And where in the US are you from?" Sherlock asked, not really caring.

"Florida, lovely state. Have you ever been?" Tad said.

 _If you're from Florida than I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy,_ he thought. _New York, most likely, judging by his accent_. "Yes, I _have_ actually. Helped convict someone of murder in Florida once. It was most pleasant trip," Sherlock replied with a hint of menace in his voice. "They have the death penalty there…" He gave the con man his best 'sociopath smile' as Mary Watson like to call it.

Tad paled and picked some imaginary lint off of his leg.

Just then Mrs. Hooper came back into the room. "Dinner's ready," she announced.

They all settled down for a meal of seafood risotto, salad and, from the look of it, home-baked bread.

"I can only assume Molly doesn't cook for you like this, Sherlock," Mrs. Hooper said proudly as she scooped a healthy portion of risotto onto his plate.

"We're both quite busy. But she has cooked for me, I assure you." It wasn't a lie. Molly had reheated take-away for them both on many occasions. She had even made him grilled cheese… once. He'd caught on very quickly to Molly's mother's game; her need to put her daughter down in order to make herself feel better. It reminded him of so many bullies he'd encountered at school… he didn't like it.

"Oh, I'm talking about _good_ food. Did she tell you that I went to culinary school? Bet she didn't."

"I don't believe she's ever mentioned it, no," he replied as he looked across the table at Molly to see how she was faring. She, once again, seemed completely unaffected as she served herself.

Her mother followed Sherlock's gaze. "Take it easy dear. You can't afford to gain anymore weight," she said when she saw how much food Molly had on her plate.

His fake girlfriend just ignored her mother and took a healthy bite of her the main course. "Hmm, lovely as usual, Mother."

"Yes Jackie, this is delicious. But then you're an amazing cook," Tad commented, smiling brightly at the older woman.

"How did you two meet?" Sherlock asked.

Jackie beamed. "Oh, on a cruise. Our cabins were just a few doors apart. Tad just swept me off of my feet," she explained.

"You see it was a singles cruise, you see. And during a dancing event one night, I, well after finally working up the nerve, asked Jackie to dance. We spent the rest of the cruise together. Best $1100.00 I ever spent." He gave the older woman a wink.

Sherlock wasn't hungry, even less after _that_ little display, not to mention he was on a case, so he took a couple small bites then contented himself with sipping water. He watched Molly during the story; she looked a bit sad. He wasn't sure if it was because her mother seemed to be happy with this two-bit hustler and they were about to wreck it or if it was something else. He made a mental note to try to figure that out, if for no other reason than to have something to occupy his mind.

After several minutes Mrs. Hooper noticed that Sherlock wasn't eating.

"Is there something wrong, Sherlock?" she asked. "You've barely eaten."

"Sorry, it's lovely. I just prefer Molly's cooking."

The woman looked appalled. "I don't see how that's possible."

"She does this thing with cheese and bread." He smirked at Molly suggestively. "Exquisite."

Molly brightened a little and took a drink of her wine.

Mrs. Hooper turned to her daughter and said, "You really need to take it easy on the red wine, sweetie, or switch to white. Fewer calories, of course. That's your second glass, it'll go straight to your hips."

Molly's smile dropped and she shook her head.

"So, what about you two?" Tad asked. "What's your story?"

Molly raised a challenging eyebrow at Sherlock and he knew exactly why. He'd said he would take care of this.

"Well," he started, keeping his eyes on the young woman across the table, "Molly and I have worked together for many years. At one point, ages ago actually, she had a bit of a crush on me…"

Mrs. Hooper interrupted with a guffaw. All eyes turned to her. "What? Oh come on! She was completely in love with you for years. It's no secret."

No one responded. Sherlock had no intention of playing this wretched woman's games. He just returned his gaze to Molly and continued his story. "After years of taking her for granted and pretending that I felt nothing whatsoever for her, I finally came to realise that there was no longer any point in denying the inevitable."

"And what was that, _exactly_?" Mrs. Hooper asked with a hint of contempt to her voice.

Sherlock finally tore his eyes away from Molly to look at the woman who had brought his pathologist into the world and said, "That I love her."

For some reason he couldn't bear to look back at Molly again throughout dinner.

They finished eating, Sherlock refusing desert but gladly accepting the offer of coffee. Molly's mother continued her small jabs and insults, and it continued to crawl right up Sherlock's arse. He was actually surprised how much he was affected by the situation. He tried to tell himself that he'd feel the same if it were John or Mary. But deep down he knew that wasn't true. Most likely he'd be jabbing at the pair of them himself, light-heartedly of course. What he was witnessing was anything but light-hearted. It was vicious and unrelenting. This woman seemed completely unconcerned with the amount of damage she was causing. It had started the moment they'd arrived. Mrs. Hooper wasn't the least bit pleased that he and Molly had walked into the house hand in hand. She was shocked and instantly jealous. She looked like she'd swallowed something very bitter tasting. Since then she'd been picking at any and everything she could find to tear her only child completely apart. Frankly Sherlock had seen enough.

"I fancy a walk," he said turning to his pathologist. He'd made sure sit on the sofa after dinner, holding up an inviting arm towards Molly as she came into the room with two cups of coffee. Apparently her mother had talked her out of the tiramisu. When he asked about it, since he knew it to be her favourite dessert, Molly just smiled and patted his knee.

"Me too," she said to him then, turned to the odd couple across the room. "Mum, Sherlock and I are going to take a walk before we go to bed," she said standing up.

"Good idea. Walk off those extra glasses of wine, dear," her mother replied as Tad kissed her cheek.

* * *

They walked down the street that ran in front of Mrs. Hooper's house and didn't speak for several minutes. Finally Sherlock couldn't keep his deductions in any longer. "You didn't grow up here," he said. "You're from a much smaller town."

"Mum moved here six months after dad died. I was at uni at the time," she said as they turned and walked west. "She didn't even phone me. Just sent me a letter with her new address, then a week later I got several boxes of my things in the wasn't room in her new life for me, I suppose." She paused and he found himself watching her carefully. "She hasn't always been quite this bad, you know. But she loved daddy so much. I mean she's always been selfish and a bit of a bully. Always obsessed with my weight, for some reason. And she never approved of me choosing the sciences over something more... domestic. But after we lost dad it seemed like there wasn't much we had in common. Our phone conversations have been limited to whether or not I have a man in my life or her offering to pay for breast implants."

"What?"

She looked up at him and laughed. "Yeah, can you imagine? Actually, don't answer that." She looked away, seemingly uncomfortable. "She was more interested in me while I was engaged to Tom. Oh, she gave me seven kinds of hell for breaking up with him."

"Ah, Tom. The lovable idiot."

"In some ways she's right,though," she said as they walked.

"How?" he asked, almost surprised that he actually cared.

"I'm weird, Sherlock. You've said it yourself, though not exactly like that. I have no social skills, I spend more time with the dead than the living, and there's nothing particularly special about my looks. Frankly Tom was a good catch. I should have tried harder, but my heart wasn't in it."

He didn't know how to respond to her, so he didn't. Though he couldn't help but notice the odd feeling that had overcome him at hearing Molly's honest appraisal of herself. He also couldn't stop himself from disagreeing… completely. He tried to shake the feeling, but it was useless. Thankfully, Molly changed the subject.

"So, Tad… what's his game?"

"Yes, young Tad. Well, he's thirty eight," he said raising an eyebrow. "And clearly interested in your mother for more than her recently purchased good looks."

"I knew it!" Molly said.

"His name isn't Tad Chancellor. What a ridiculous alias. Though in his defense, being American, he couldn't have known that he was attempting to hoodwink the mother of one of my closest friends. Or even who I am for that matter. Walked right into that one." He laughed at the man's misfortune.

They had made it to a small park and Molly sat on a bench before she spoke again. "I really appreciate this, Sherlock. I, ah, never said thank you."

"There's no need, Molly. As you've pointed out, I do indeed owe you. And now that I've witnessed Jacqueline Hooper first hand, I would no more have allowed you to come here alone than I would have sent you into a fire-fight armed with a water gun."

Molly laughed and Sherlock realised how much he enjoyed the sound, it made him quite happy if he was completely honest. _Best not to dwell on that,_ he thought.

When they arrived back at the house, they walked into the sitting room to find Jackie and Tad in the middle of a full on teenage makeout session. Molly cringed and excused herself to their room, while Sherlock happily followed.

As she was gathering her clothes she said, "I'm going to take a very hot shower and attempt to scald my eyeballs. God, she's disgusting." She walked out of the room mumbling about how her mother was _purposefully_ trying to scar her.

Sherlock, personally, saw nothing wrong with an older woman dating a younger man, and he was confident if it were any other woman Molly wouldn't either. But Mrs. Hooper and Molly had a long and complicated history and their many unresolved issues were working against both of them. He decided that he'd done enough psychoanalyzing for the time being. He used Molly's laptop to check his website… nothing. The same was the case with his phone although he did have several messages from both John and Mary asking how things were going.

 **Everything is going fine. Stop sending texts - SH**

He sent the same text to both John and Mary then remembered he needed to ask his brother for a favour. As much as he hated do it, needs must.

 **I need you to run a photo through your facial recognition software. He's American.- SH**

He sent the text to his brother, and waited for a response. More than ten minutes later and still no reply, he was starting to get frustrated. Then realised that Mycroft would need more motivation than that.

 **It's for Molly - SH**

His phone pinged within sixty seconds.

 **Whatever I can do to help-M**

Sherlock laughed as he typed his reply. Molly might not be much of a cook, but his brother certainly loved her fairy cakes along with her liberal use of frosting.

 **I'll send you a photo within the next 24 hours - SH**

The detective retreated into his mind palace to consider the various ways young Mr. 'Chancellor' could be attempting to take advantage of Molly's mother. He had come up with six possibilities when he felt the bed move and looked to his left to see his fake girlfriend, freshly washed, and enjoying the tiramisu she'd been denied earlier in the evening. He couldn't help but smile when he saw how much she was enjoying it.

"She's a pain in the arse but God can she cook. I've never been able to make it like hers." She took another bite. "You have to try this, just one bite," she said holding up a spoon full.

It _did_ look rather inviting. Reluctantly Sherlock parted his lips and allowed Molly to put the decadent coffee flavoured dessert in his mouth. She watched him with an expectant smile on her face, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He followed her eyes as they watched his tongue lick the remnants off of his lips. Her smile dropped and she flushed just a tiny bit. _How long has it been since that happened?_ he wondered as he swallowed.

She seemed to shake herself out of the moment as she asked, "Well, it's good isn't it?"

He just nodded as he watched her skin return to its natural colour, missing the pink tinge. He cleared his throat. "I've contacted Mycroft. We need to get him a photo of Tad. Can you manage to take his picture with your phone tomorrow?"

"I don't see why not," she said as she got up and walked across the room, placing the empty bowl on the dresser.

She had changed into her pajamas; a light long sleeved cotton tee and satin sleep pants, covered in yellow flowers. He hopped up, grabbing his night clothes and toothbrush, then went to the bathroom.

By the time he got back to the guest room Molly was already in bed. It was a small room, painted in a ridiculous green colour, with the bed pushed against the far wall. Molly had taken the side closest to the wall and was curled up facing away from the room. Sherlock got in bed and turned off the light.

He wasn't tired. Not in the least. The day hadn't been taxing and he was certain that sleep wouldn't come easily. As he looked over at his bed-mate he realised just how far away she was. "Molly, is there a reason you're hugging the wall?"

"I'm trying to give you plenty of room," she said.

"You're not going to be awkward about this are you, we _have_ shared a bed before."

She turned over. "Yes, but my bed is a king and this is a double."

"Still plenty of room."

She huffed. "Fine. You want to know the real reason?"

"Obviously."

"You kick. In your sleep you… _kick_."

"I do not," he replied confidently.

"I knew you'd deny it. Trust me and my shins, Sherlock. You kick," she said before rolling back over.

He thought about it for a moment and realised that he really had no idea if he did indeed kick or not. Janine had never commented on his sleeping habits, as if she would. Not to mention most nights he managed to make a discreet getaway after she'd fallen asleep to… yes, not thinking about smack houses right now. And… well, besides Molly, that was about the extent of his experience of bed sharing in the last ten years. "All right. I suppose it's _possible_ that I kick."

"No worries. You can't help it," she said tiredly.

Still not the least bit sleepy, he decided to go back to working on Tad and his malicious intentions toward Molly's mother. It was just about the most uninteresting case he'd had months. As a matter of fact, if anyone other than Molly had offered it to him his answer would have been no. He wouldn't even have considered it. But for Molly... of course he'd do it for her.

His mind was busy working on a solution to the Tad problem when he felt himself being shaken.

"No! No, this is NOT happening!"

"What, Molly? For God's sake!"

"Don't you hear that?" she asked.

"Hear wh…" Then of course he heard it: the sounds of two people in the throes of passion. "Oh…"

Molly sat up in bed and Sherlock turned on the light. She was attempting to cover her ears as she rocked slightly. "She's doing this on purpose!"

"Well, people seldom do _that_ on accident."

His bedmate glared at him. "We haven't seen each other in nearly a year and she can't wait a couple of days to get off with her… with her… ARG!"

"Do calm down, Molly. It'll be over… soon."

"Try to imagine your parents having sex, Sherlock. See if that's not the least bit disturbing!" she barked back.

She had a point. He shook himself trying to get rid of the unwanted image. "Okay, come here," he said, pulling her by her shoulders.

"What?!"

"Stop being hysterical and come here." He pulled her towards him laying back in bed then tucked her head into his shoulder and covered her ear with his large hand. "Just think pleasant thoughts. This is why you need a mind palace. I'd have no problem blocking out their… noises."

"God this weekend couldn't get worse!" She burrowed closer to him, her arm holding him tightly across his stomach. "Did I just say that? That's an invitation for disaster."

Sherlock chuckled. "She really gets to you, doesn't she?" Molly nodded. "You do a good job hiding it in front of her." He was actually impressed with Molly's ability to remain cool in her mother's presence.

"My dad... he taught me actually. After one of her rants about my appearance Dad came and found me. He said just to take it. That fighting back didn't do any good. Then he spent an hour telling me how beautiful I was. That I was smart and special. He said trying to make Jacqueline Hooper see the truth in her hateful words made as much sense as arguing with a tree. He always worked double time to make me feel like I wasn't ugly and worthless." She tilted her head up at Sherlock and looked at him for the first time. "It worked. I mean I know I'm not gorgeous, but I don't make milk curdle either. Somewhere in between, I suppose."

It shocked Sherlock that she'd been able to say that to his face, never averting her gaze. Molly Hooper had come a long way. _A very long wa_ y, he thought, _considering what I know now._ He'd always know Molly wasn't a fan of self-pity, now he had the full picture. For some reason it made him want run away with her, protect her even though he knew she didn't want protection.

"For fuck's sake! How long must this torture go on?" Molly shouted.

"Well, Tad and I are roughly the same age and I know how long I can…"

" _NOT_ helping!" she interrupted scooting away from him.

"Right. Shall I tell you about an exciting case I recently solved? Dazzle you with my detective skills."

She sighed and snuggled in closer. "I suppose."

Molly was asleep before he could tell her how he solved it.

* * *

 _Okay, I know that's a long chapter, the rest are a bit shorter... a bit. Hope you liked it. Please let me know. Thanks for reading. ~Lil~_


	2. A Fight

_What an amazing response! Okay, so we DON'T like Jackie. Got it! She's not very nice. This chapter's a little shorter but I promise fun times ahead. Thank you all for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, commenting, and leaving kudos. You are wonderful. Once again big thanks to MizJoely for her amazing betaing work and MrsMCrieff for putting up with all my Brit questions. The mistakes are all mine, folks._

 _Streets, so glad you're enjoying your gift. Hugs and Love._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-A Fight-**

* * *

As Sherlock woke up he noticed several things (not necessarily in this order). His back was stiff, which meant he must have slept in the same position all night. Actually, his back wasn't the only thing that was stiff. He had an erection. _Tedious_. He also noticed that the walls of the room were an even more obnoxious shade of green in the morning sun light. Oh and Molly... Yes, she was curled up around his midsection, her left leg thrown over both of his, effectively pinning them down. And the best part? She was gently cupping his hard cock with her tiny hand!

 _Deep breath_.

His mind couldn't work out a solution until it figured out how he'd had gotten into the situation to begin with. They had fallen asleep after having to listen to forty-seven minutes of rather adventurous lovemaking from Jackie and her young man. Well, Sherlock had had to listen to it; Molly managed to fall asleep much quicker than the detective. He'd tried to access his mind palace but he had a hard time focusing. What shocked him was that it wasn't the near pornographic sounds coming from down the hall that had him preoccupied, it was the pathologist on his chest.

Molly Hooper was an enigma, she always had been to him. But in just a few short hours she'd managed to become even more perplexing. Having gotten a glimpse into her childhood he now understood what made Molly… _Molly_. Somehow this new information only caused him more confusion.

He had deduced her the moment they'd met. The only child of a hard working middle class man and a woman who felt she married below her station. He knew her father owned a small business, though there was something he was missing, which only took him another week to figure out. He could read her intelligence and kindness. And most importantly he immediately realised that she was someone he could manipulate. A few years later he found himself regretting ever making that deduction.

 _Right, back to the… Problem. How did we end up here?_ Most likely he had started kicking, considering the location of Molly's legs, she must have scooted down, draping her legs over his to stop his apparent 'restless leg syndrome' _(perhaps I should talk to John about that_ ), and her hand ended up on his penis. _A convenient resting place, or something more? That's definitely worth looking into._ Now the solution. He could wake her but of course that might be embarrassing for all parties. Molly was clearly over her crush but waking up wrapped around him with her hand gently cradling his erection would certainly be at the very least… _troubling_.

Sherlock's hand was resting on her warm back and he noticed that her shirt had ridden up in the night, exposing about four inches of skin. _IDEA_! He could carefully, lightly tickle her back, hopefully causing her to move (or roll over in a best case scenario) but not wake up. Sherlock knew that most people were indeed ticklish and there was a good chance that Molly Hooper was one of them. It was a good place to start… sort of.

He moved his hand to the exposed skin and gently slid his fingertips across her hip, just above her pajamas. Molly stirred, but only a little. _I'll have to be more aggressive_. This time he tickled her harder, adding more pressure and going up under her shirt allowing his fingers to dance across her ribs. _God, she's soft_. Her hand squeezed his cock and Sherlock gasped softly, then she moved from his crotch as she shifted and he breathed a sigh of relief. Molly giggled and moved a little higher on his torso, slipping her arm around his stomach holding on tightly.

 _Okay, it seems to be working if I can just make her roll over, I'm home free,_ Sherlock thought as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his pants. He reached back down and this time tickled across her lower back. It didn't exactly have the desired effect. Actually it caused Molly to moan and turn her face into Sherlock's chest. She wrapped a leg around his and pushed her centre against his hip then… then…

"Mmm… God, Sherlock," came out of her mouth.

The words were like an electric shock, they caused gooseflesh to erupt on his skin and made his dick twitch. "Well, fuck!" he whispered.

The situation was clearly out of hand and the tickling hadn't worked… exactly. Time to move on to plan B, which he hadn't thought of just yet. The good news was that she no longer had a hold on his cock. If she woke up now it would just be a 'snuggling' situation, not unlike the way they had fallen asleep. The bad news was that he really couldn't get up and deal with the now raging erection he had because Molly was clinging to him like a damn limpet.

There was only one choice. _Well, that's not true, is it?_ he thought. _I could wake her up and fuck her silly._ He shook his head. _Not helping… not helping one bit. Okay… back to Molly extraction._ He needed to somehow roll her over and deposit her on her side of the bed. It was risky, but he'd been in more dangerous situations… if only slightly. Taking a deep breath, he made a rash decision and rolled them both over then suddenly found himself hovering over a very awake and _very_ annoyed Molly Hooper.

"What the hell, Sherlock?"

"You touched my cock!" he blurted, instantly realising that wasn't the best way to greet her in their current state. Not to mention it completely undid all his _tickling work_.

"What?!"

"Yes… well… You were lying on me and holding my cock. I managed to tickle you until you released me, but you were still on top of me, so I rolled you over… now here we are."

She pushed him off, quite forcefully, causing him to roll backwards off the bed. "I don't believe you!" She stood up. "I didn't touch your…" Pointing to his flagging erection and finished, "that. You expect me to buy that pile of bullshit just because you're embarrassed about waking up with morning wood. Jesus Sherlock, this is just pathetic."

"I'm not making it up! You were cupping it like it was the Holy Grail! Also, I should mention that you moaned my name."

Molly gasped. "No I did _not_!"

"It happened while you were sleeping. Denying it is completely irrational," he said as he got up from the floor.

"I'm not listening to this!" she said before storming out of the room.

Now the smart thing would have been to leave it, but Sherlock, however brilliant, wasn't known for always make good decisions… He followed Molly into the hallway. He had no intention of letting her get the last word. "Why would I make this up?" he said catching up with her just outside the bathroom.

"Like I said, you were obviously embarrassed about your… _morning problem_ , and came up with that elaborate lie. Why you were on top of me, I'm not sure."

"I've already explained that. You…"

"Yes, of course. I was all over you playing with your… winkie!"

"Good God, Molly! Winkie?"

"Fine, your big hard co…"

"Morning kids! Breakfast will be ready in about fifteen minutes. I'm making crepes!" Mrs. Hooper suddenly appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Although Sherlock's attention was on the angry pathologist and not his surroundings. "Am I, ah, interrupting a little lover's spat?" she asked with a touch of glee in her voice.

Sherlock turned to her noticing the smile on her face and said, "Not at all. Fifteen minutes you say? I can work with that." He grabbed Molly around the waist and pulled her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Sherl…" Molly started but he cut her off with his lips.

She was putting up a fight but he backed her against the sink, gripping her hips as he ground his into hers. He lapped at her mouth with his tongue and drove it in when she gasped in shock. That's when he felt her hands suddenly sink into his hair. _Now you've got it,_ _Molly_ , he thought as she held his head close, finally returning his kiss. She moaned when he nibbled at her lip and rucked up her shirt until he found that soft skin he'd felt just a few minutes before. Then he moved his mouth from hers and kissed her jaw and neck. He kept kissing until he reached her ear. "Take this off for me?" he asked.

"For fuck's saked, Sherlock. What's gotten into you?" she asked, pushing him back just enough to look into his eyes.

"Take it off, Molly," he said, sounding much more demanding than he intended.

It must have worked, however, because suddenly Molly's night shirt was gone and he had a full view of her breasts. Lovely, perky things. Not small… no, not small so much as perfect. He heard himself growl as he bent over, latching onto one upturned point. He sucked the bud into his mouth and listened to Molly gasp and moan. He reached for the tie on her pajama bottoms as he switched sides and heard her trying to protest his actions.

"Shut up," he said as he knelt on the fuzzy pink mat on the floor. "You moaned my name and you will again!" He pulled down the bottoms and her knickers at the same time, then picked up one foot so she could step out of them. Keeping his eyes on her the whole time he kissed her mound. "Any more objections?"

She shook her head, though her eyes were wide with apprehension. He had every intention of wiping that look off of her face.

He then placed one leg over his shoulder and slipped his index finger between her outer lips. She was already soaked. "Fucking hell, Molly. You're so wet for me." He parted her with his thumbs and kissed her clit. Not knowing if he'd ever get the chance to be in this position again, he intended to enjoy himself.

Molly looked stunning leaning back against her mother's guest bathroom sink, completely naked, flushed, and writhing as he licked her leaking cunt. And she tasted even better. In all his experiences he couldn't remember tasting anything better. Was it because it had been so long? Or was she simply that delicious? He couldn't decide, and really didn't care. All he did care about was devouring her whole.

He lightly stroked her clit until he heard her breathing pick up, then moved his tongue to her tight channel, working it in as far as he could, sucking up her sweet juices in the process.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…" she cursed as he drove his tongue into her over and over. Finally he moved back to her hard little nub and lightly stroked it again. "Oh God, please, Sherlock. Please!"

Backing off he asked, "Please what, Molly?"

"I'm so close."

He slipped one finger into her leaking core, only up to his first knuckle. "Close to what?" His voice had an air of indifference.

"Grrrrr. Make me come, you prick!"

He chuckled. "No need to get huffy. All you have to do is ask nicely." He added another finger and pushed them in further. "Tell me what you want, Molly."

She growled and threw her head back, fighting the inevitable. After only a few seconds though she said, "Fine. Please suck my clit… hard and make me come."

"Of course. Say my name. I want to hear my name again, understand me?"

She nodded as she took hold of one breast and twisted her nipple.

Sherlock curled his fingers until he found her G-spot. He then licked her clit three times before sucking it into his mouth and nibbling on it then sucking on it again. He continued thrusting with his fingers, pressing on the spongy spot inside her that he knew would send her over the edge if he got his timing right. And sure enough he did.

He felt her flutter against his fingers as he heard, "Unnnhhhnnnnn!" come from her mouth. One of her hands were suddenly buried in his hair as she rode her orgasm out on his face. "Sh-Sherlock! Fuck!"

He eased his fingers out of her as he watched her twitch and shake, a blissed out look on her face. As he rose, he planted both hands on either side of her on the sink. His erection was just about to kill and he couldn't wait to bury himself the beautifully naked woman in front of him. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Breakfast is ready. Crepes are an utter disaster when served cold!" Mrs. Hooper called out.

"Ah, we're not hungry, Mother!" Molly answered.

"Of course, I cook all morning for you and your detective and…"

" _Fine!_ " Molly interrupted. "I'll be right out."

"Are you kidding?" Sherlock asked as he ground his cock into her bare belly.

"Take a shower… A cold one," Molly said as she moved past him looking for her clothes.

"Will you at least bring me some ice?" he asked as he watched her get dressed.

She turned to him. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what just happened. Because I don't." She smiled and kissed him lightly on his lips. "But thank you." Then she turned and left.

* * *

 _Wow! We thought Sherlock hated Mrs. Hooper before… he may actually kill her now. LOL. Please let me know what you think. ~Lil~_


	3. A Challenge

_Poor Sherlock, sort of left him hangin' there, didn't we? Well, when I say 'we'… Anyhoo…_

 _Once again thank you all for reading my story. I forgot to thank the guest reviewers last time, so sorry. I wish I could respond to you. : ) Thank you so much!_

 _Huge thanks go to MizJoely for her beta work and support. Any and all mistakes are mine._

 _Streets, one more chapter after this. Hope you're having fun! I know I am ; )_

 _I own nothing. ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-A Challenge-**

* * *

Molly sat down in front of her plate of crepes and tried to figure out what just happened. _Good God_ , she thought. _Sherlock just went down on me in my mother's guest bathroom. What the actual fuck?_ Her mind was racing, she was barely aware that she wasn't alone in the room as she replayed the events of the last thirty minutes. _How on earth did that just happen? How did we go from fighting to… that? He seemed, well, intent… focused even, like he was determined to make me…_ She stopped herself from pulling up the memory in too vivid detail. She was still lost in thought when she felt a hand on her shoulder and jerked away.

"What's wrong with you, dear?" her mother asked. "I make you and Sherlock this nice breakfast, he's nowhere to be found and you just stare at your food as if you've never seen fine cuisine before."

"Ah, sorry mum. I'm a bit distracted," Molly said before taking a bite.

"I know, I heard you and Sherlock arguing this morning. Don't feel bad, dear. No one will have expected this relationship to last. If you couldn't hold onto Tom it will come as no great shock that you couldn't keep a handsome famous man like Sherlock Holmes."

She shouldn't have been hurt; this was classic Jackie Hooper, but she wasn't in the mood for her mum's antics at the moment. She was confused and a little freaked out, if she was honest. It had taken every ounce of her bravado to get out of that bathroom with an _excited_ Sherlock standing there just waiting for her to jump him. "You know mother, I'm aware that you have no faith in me whatsoever, but I'll thank you to stay out of my relationship. Sherlock and I had a small disagreement this morning. We are in no way _breaking up_."

"Yet," her mother said as she turned to tend to the next crepe that was ready to come off of the hob.

Several minutes later Sherlock came into the kitchen looking refreshed with his damp hair and a smirk that meant he was up to something. "Good morning," he announced, then he walked up to Molly, bent down, grabbed her by the back of the head and snogged her senseless. When his luscious lips left hers he looked deeply into her eyes and said (loud enough for her mother to hear), "I'm sorry about this morning, darling. You know how much I hate sleeping in a strange bed. That was entirely my fault. Forgive me?"

Molly nodded while he took his seat as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," Molly's mother said as she put a plate in front of Sherlock. "Seems like everything's on the mend then." Her smile was fake and her voice flat.

"Certainly is," Sherlock said, eyeing his food. "This may be a bit too sweet for me, Mrs. Hooper. Just coffee I think. Though if you want to feed someone's sweet-tooth, I should direct you to my brother's house. He'd most likely lock you in his kitchen and we wouldn't hear from either of you until he had to be removed via flat-bed lorry." He chuckled at his own joke as he stirred sugar into his coffee.

"Yes, well… you haven't eaten much since you arrived. That can't be healthy," Jackie commented.

"Sherlock doesn't eat much, mother. He'll eat when he hungry," Molly explained. "So what's on the agenda for the day?" she asked, changing the topic away from Sherlock's lack of appetite.

"Oh, Tad and I have a cooking class in an hour. The class is two hours long then we're going to lunch, so you two will be on your own most of the day," Jackie said as she sat down to eat.

 _Where is the swindler?_ she wondered. _Wait…_ "Mum, you _demanded_ I come for a visit, then you make plans? Why would you do that?"

"We've been taking the class for weeks. I paid for it in advance. I'm not missing it just because you finally gave into my threats and showed up. You know I like to keep up to date on new techniques. You'll be fine," she said dismissively.

Molly was suddenly stricken with the idea that she'd have to spend an extended amount of time alone... with Sherlock. She hadn't felt like this in a very long time. "Ah, could we join you? It could be fun and you're, always saying I need to learn to cook… better."

Jackie laughed. "It's a gourmet class, dear. You can't just jump into the middle, besides it's booked up."

Tad walked into the room, greeting everyone and kissing Jackie on the cheek. "We should be going if you want to stop off at the bank first," he said.

Shortly thereafter the couple said their goodbyes and left, leaving Molly with a ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach. She got up and started washing the dishes. Sherlock was still seated at the table behind her back and she decided to try to focus on the reason they were there (which incidentally wasn't oral sex in bathrooms.)

"So, you have this all figured out, I assume," she said as she loaded the dishwasher.

"I have several ideas."

Molly huffed at his cryptic answer. "Feel like sharing them?"

"Not yet, I don't."

She finished up and turned to him. "They're going to the bank, Sherlock! _The bank!_ "

"Yes, I was present for the conversation," he replied.

"Well?"

"Trust me when I say it won't be a problem." He stood up and approached her. He poured the remainder of his coffee into the sink and put his cup in the dishwasher. "We, however, _do_ have a problem."

Molly backed up against the counter, trying to but some distance between herself and the… suddenly predatory looking detective. "Ah, what kind of problem could we possibly have?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

The corner of his mouth curled up, almost viciously. "I just took the world's coldest shower, Molly. Let's not play games."

"Games?!" she shouted. "I'm not the one playing games, here. What was that all about anyway?" she asked, her tone accusatory.

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Making you come? I'd say that's fairly self-explanatory."

"You know what I'm talking about! That was going above and beyond in the fake boyfriend role, don't you think? Or are you just using some tricks from your time with Janine?"

He stalked closer to Molly until he was very nearly touching her, his arms bracketing her against the counter. "I can assure you, Molly, _that_ never happened with _her_ ," he said in a low voice.

Molly's body immediately reacted, even as she willed it to stop. "This is madness," she said as she pushed his arm away and moved out of the kitchen into the lounge.

"What's madness? The fact that you're unwilling to reciprocate, yes. I admit I'm a bit put off about that."

She turned to see him with his hands in his pockets looking just about as casual and unaffected as a man could possibly look. He was teasing her… _the bastard_. Just when she thought he was actually starting to treat her like a proper friend, especially after being so understanding the night before. She shook her head. "Why would you start this back up after all this time? I'm really not in the mood to be mocked, Sherlock."

"Mocked? You call what I did for you in that bathroom mocking?" he said, pointing down the hall where the incident had occurred."I know I'm a slightly out of practice, but you orgasmed in less than three minutes." He folded his arms across his chest. "Beat that!"

Now he was challenging her? _Oh, so he wants to make this some sort of competition, does he?_ Well they didn't call her 'little miss perfect' for nothing. " _SIT!_ " she demanded.

Sherlock wasted no time sitting on the sofa; though he tried to look bored, the half tent he was already sporting didn't help his cause. After the incident in the bathroom she'd gone back into their room and changed into a sundress and light cardigan. She shed the cardi on her way to join him. "Rules?" she asked.

"Less than three minutes once you touch my… cock."

Molly shivered. Was she really about to do this? She looked at the gleam in his eyes… Hell yes she was. "How are you going to time it?"

He pulled his phone out and fiddled with it for a moment then put it next to him. "All right… do your worst, or best in this case."

Oh, she was going to make him pay for all that arrogance. "Ready?" she asked.

"I've _been_ ready, Molly," he said with an edge to his voice. "You started getting me ready in your sleep."

She had been planning her attack the since he presented the challenge and she was actually quite proud of herself. She had some tricks, all girls did. Keeping her eyes locked with his the whole time, she first removed her knickers... slowly and tossed them onto the cushion next to him. He looked somewhat intrigued by her actions. _Good_ , she thought, she needed him off kilter for this to work. Then she straddled his legs, hiking her skirt up as she moved closer. Once settled, she started unbuttoning his shirt, his purple shirt, she had noticed it when she'd regained her senses after their breakfast snog. He knew what he was doing with that damn shirt. Once unbuttoned and pulled from his trousers she pushed it open, not removing it, just getting it out of the way. Holding onto his, _oh Lord_ , firm shoulders, she leaned forward and started kissing his neck while deliberately grinding her exposed centre into his leg, never close enough to make contact with his now fully erect penis.

Sherlock quickly gave up his passivity. Evidently he planned on enjoying the game while it lasted, because Molly felt one hand on her thigh and the other on the back of her neck. His fingernails dug into her skin, gripping tightly as she ground down and continued her oral assault. Sherlock turned his head while moving his hand up to tangle in her hair, bringing their mouths together in a heated kiss. God, his kisses drove her mad and she was fairly sure he'd have to change his trousers since there was no way she wasn't leaving evidence of herself on him. His mouth left hers and trailed kisses down her neck, licking, biting, sucking as he went. But she was supposed to be in control here... he was trying to distract her, she had to do something.

"Sherlock," she said pulling away. He looked so fucking sexy, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen and red, his hair mussed, sticking out in every direction. "Ah, you challenged me, remember?"

He seemed to shake himself, then cleared his throat. "Of course. Back to work, you." Then he smiled.

It was odd, the look on his face was almost _disappointment_. Molly shook it off and got back to her plan. She couldn't let the adorably disheveled detective get her off track. She continued to kiss and lick her way down his stomach enjoying the way his hips were moving under her. He didn't even seem to be hiding how badly he wanted her to suck his cock. When she finally made it to the floor she paused and looked up at him smiling sweetly.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a deep and breathy voice.

She didn't answer, but simply reached for his left foot and removed his shoe then sock. When finished she gently rubbed his foot and kissed the top of it before putting it on the floor. She repeated the actions on the other foot leaving the detective staring, mouth agape. Gracing him with another sweet smile, she raked her hands up his thighs slowly until she reached the top of his trousers. "Would you do the honours? I'd hate to accidentally touch your cock and start this too early. Rules and all."

He seemed frozen for a split second, then sprang into action, undoing the button and zip on his trousers. But when he started to pull them down, Molly stopped him.

"Ah, ah, ah… Slow down there." She took him by the wrists. "See how long you can keep your hands at your sides," she told him, putting his arms next to him on the sofa. Then she resumed her kissing and nibbling on his stomach, careful to keep herself from touching his erection. Her hands traveled up and down his thighs, gripping them tightly.

Finally she started tugging on his trousers and he lifted his hips. Molly removed them, tossing them on the floor. _Good... God_. She looked at the sight in front of her… no pants. She wasn't the least bit surprised. Competition or no, she was going to enjoy this.

It was a gorgeous long thing. Thick and beautiful with a red tip, already leaking for her. She wrapped her hand around the base and looked up at him. His eyes told her everything she needed to know… he was lost. She licked the drop of precum off then said, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Fu-fuck," he whispered as he groped for his phone.

Molly wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and started to work. She pumped the shaft as she sucked and licked. He tasted amazing. He was moaning her name and moving his hips in time with her hand as she reached for his balls.

"Oh God, Molly. So good. So fucking good," he moaned.

 _About to get better_ , she thought as she relaxed her throat and took him down inch by inch, watching his eyes as she went. He was shocked. Clearly he wasn't expecting that. She got him as deep as she could and pulled back off again swirling her tongue as she did.

"Fucking hell. How did you do that?"

Molly giggled. "Scoot closer… please?" she begged.

Sherlock, it seemed, was in no place to deny her anything since he immediately scooted to the edge of the settee. Once again Molly took him in her mouth and started sucking. As she did she slipped her right hand under her dress sliding her index finger between her slick folds. Sherlock obviously noticed.

"Oh fuck, I want to taste you again. Yes, Molly. Come with me."

But that wasn't her current goal… no. She had stopped sucking but continued to pump him with her hand. She pulled the wet finger out of her pussy and swirled it around Sherlock's puckered hole, raising a challenging eyebrow as she did.

"If you dare," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You think I'm bluffing?" she replied as she inserted her finger, slowly.

Molly immediately engulfed Sherlock's cock as she fingered his arsehole. She counted in her head. Less than fourteen seconds later he exploded in her mouth, his hands holding onto her head as he called out her name along with a string of curses.

Sitting back on her heels, Molly grabbed Sherlock's phone hitting stop. "HA! 2 minutes 27 seconds!"

"Yes," he said, his head resting on the back of the sofa. "You… did… it." He held up an arm. "Come here," he slurred, sleepily.

"Why?" Molly asked as she picked up his trousers off the floor.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Molly. Just come here."

She picked up her pants from the cushion next to him and sat down. Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed her around the waist. "I meant here, you daft woman." Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly. "That's more like it."

"Um, Sherlock…"

"What now, Molly?"

"You cuddle?"

"Evidently, with you I find it… acceptable," he answered.

"Ahhh…"

"Just go with it. I'm enjoying the afterglow of the best blow job of my life. Don't ruin it."

"The best, huh?"

"Hmm."

Ten minutes later Molly convinced Sherlock that they needed to get up before her mother found him nearly naked, sprawled out on her newly re-upholstered settee. Molly cleaned up in the bathroom while Sherlock went to their room to get new trousers. That's where she found him when she came back out.

"Are you going to tell me what you meant about 'it won't be a problem'? Molly asked as she picked up her make-up case and pulled out a small compact.

"I will, but you have to promise not to freak out," he replied.

She put down the case and turned around, already freaking out internally. "Okay, I promise."

"No." He turned around and walked back to the bed. "You are going to panic and do something rash," he said as he started thumbing through his phone.

She rushed over to him. "Well you _have_ to tell me now! What's wrong with you?"

When Sherlock looked up at Molly he seemed almost… regretful. "Fine. But you must promise me that you won't try to fix this. Jackie did this to herself, Molly. You can't fix everything. She's a grown woman and not your responsibility."

Molly just nodded as her anxiety grew.

"There's no money for Tad to steal. You're mother's all but broke. One too many plastic surgeries, I'd imagine." Her shock must have shown on her face, because he continued quickly. "Oh, she has _some_ money, but not much. The three hundred thousand pounds your father left her with, gone."

To say she was shocked would be putting it lightly. She sat down next to Sherlock on the bed. "Gone?"

"Almost completely."

"She's not even sixty, Sherlock. What the hell is she going to do?" she asked.

"She should have thought about that before the new breasts and chin." He turned and took her by the shoulders. "I know you and I know what you're thinking. You better not, for one moment think about handing over your savings to that harpy. She'll have to get a job and learn to live within her means."

"How could she do this? My father worked so hard…"

"Molly," Sherlock warned.

She stood up. "So hard to provide for us and leave her with a nest-egg. She throws it away on trips and boobs and cooking classes for her and that… that… child!"

"There's no point in getting that photo. Once I explain that there's nothing to gain by shagging your mum, Tad will be on his way, and so will we," he said standing up and following her.

She turned to face him. "Wait. Is this what all the sex has been about?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Like pity or something? Your mum's broke… pissed away your dad's hard earned money so I'll go down on you in the loo."

"Molly, I assure you…" he started.

"Course that doesn't explain the blow job… unless you just really wanted your dick sucked. Any mouth would do, huh?"

She'd never seen genuine hurt on Sherlock's face before. "Yes, well, I suppose... " He cleared his throat.

"Sherlock…"

"I'm going to… Ah, I'll be back by dinner." Then he turned and left.

* * *

 _Ohhhh, Molly... damn..._

 _Okay, I'd love to hear what you think about this one! Thanks for reading ~Lil~_


	4. Oh What A Night

_And here's the final chapter. Once again thank you all for your comments and reviews. I have to admit I had a lot of fun with this fic. Huge thanks to MizJoely for betaing this story and general wonderfulness. Also MrsMCrieff for all her Brit help (there was a LOT in this chapter) she is the best. All the mistakes are mine._

 _Hey! Sherlockian_87… psst, over here... I love you, Streets, I hope you know that. Thank you so much for all your support and for your wonderful friendship. You are true blessing. You've been here for me since my first fic and that means the world to me._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **Chapter 4 - Oh What A Night -**

* * *

 _Stupid… stupid… stupid! This is why I don't do these sort of things!_ he thought as he walked down the pavement looking for a shop to buy some cigarettes. After about twenty-five minutes he found one and bought a pack. Then he just kept walking and thinking.

When he'd woken up with Molly in his arms that morning, he had no intention of acting on his instincts. They'd basically always been there. A Molly inspired erection wasn't a new thing, it had just never happened while she was wrapped around him, moaning his name (although that might have been his fault, what with the tickling and all). But when she'd denied everything, he suddenly felt like he needed to prove himself. And then God help him…once he started, he didn't want to stop. His challenge was, yes, a bit manipulative, but genuine nevertheless. _He wanted her_. Not just her mouth, though that had been amazing, but he wanted more.

Then after… he knew she was just lashing out because she'd found out about her mother's finances, but it _had_ hurt. Sherlock wasn't used to being the losing side, as it were, and he had no idea of what to do with the emotions it brought up. So he walked and smoked. He walked for hours. Before he knew it it was well past dinner. His phone had rang several times, but he just ignored it, he had to be in the right frame of mind before seeing Molly once again. Finally he could avoid it no longer, he had to talk to her and wrap up this situation with her mother.

He arrived back at the house to find Jackie nearly hysterical.

"Oh Sherlock!" she exclaimed. "Molly had some sort of fit, yelling at me about my savings, as if she has any right. Then she ran out of here looking for you. Tad, that dear sweet man, went looking for _her_. Please you have to find him!"

"TAD! You're worried about _Tad_?" He laughed bitterly. "Of course you are, God forbid you concern yourself with Molly for one moment. That _dear sweet man_ is hustling you and now that he knows you're penniless there's no telling what he'll do." He pulled out his phone. "Any idea where either of them went?"

"I'm hardly penniless and I've told you all I know. What do you mean, he's hustling me?" she added frantically.

"Just what I said, you idiot!" He pulled up his voicemail and listened. He had several messages from Molly saying that she was sorry, that she just was upset about her mum and asking him to come back, then...

' _Mr. Holmes, I seem to have something of yours. If you want it returned in the same condition I found it, meet me at Sainsburry's car park by 11pm,_ _ **alone**_ _. Bring two hundred thousand pounds. I've looked into you, Holmes. You have the resources. Oh, Molly says hi!_ '

He replayed the message again listening to it very carefully then immediately rang his brother. _A little over two hours,_ the thought _. And I can finally punch the American._

" _Sherlock, I thought you were sending me a photo_ ," Mycroft said.

"Forget about that. Tad Chancellor, or whoever he is, has Molly and is holding her ransom for £200,000," Sherlock explained.

" _Fine, but it's coming out of your inheritance_."

"I'm not giving that bastard any money. I need you to make sure I don't go back to prison when I kill him." He heard Jackie gasp and turned his attention to the older woman. "Don't you even start. This is all your fault. If you cared more about your own flesh and blood than screwing young men, Molly wouldn't be in danger!"

" _How did I put Molly in danger?"_ Mycroft asked.

"Not you, Mycroft! Send reinforcements if you must, but I'm meeting them at 11pm with or without your help. DON'T contact the local police."

" _As if I would. Have you phoned John?"_

"No, I can handle this, I don't want him involved. Just be ready to deal with the aftermath, understand?" he said, trying to get his meaning across.

" _Sherlock, I know how you feel about Dr. Hooper, but don't do anything stupid."_

"I'm getting her back one way or the other." As he rang off he asked Jackie, "Where do you keep your guns?"

Molly's father had owned a small off-license. When sold it couldn't have brought more than £120,000. And savings? How exactly does a dying man manage to save almost a half a million pounds? He'd paid for Molly's university in advance before his death and Sherlock was well aware of her investment portfolio, thank you Mycroft. No, Harold Hooper wasn't just an unassuming shopkeeper, he had connections. Molly's father was a very minor player in the Irish mob. Most likely a go-between; a bit of money laundering and book making. But he had managed his money well and been very good at keeping secrets. Clearly Molly had inherited her father's discretion because Jackie was about as subtle as a herd of charging rhinos. Oddly enough he'd never figured out whether or not Molly knew about her father's side business. She was quite good hiding _certain_ things. It was just another thing that confused him about the woman; she may wear her heart on her sleeve but ask her to keep a secret and it's in no safer hands.

At the moment all of that was immaterial. He needed a weapon and after a bit of arguing, Jackie had shown him her dead husband's cache of guns and ammunition. He asked Jackie if Tad was aware of Mr. Hooper's shady past.

"No, of course not," she sniffed. "I don't go around telling people about the things Harold got up to! I'm a respectable woman now, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock had his own opinion of what kind of woman she actually was, but refrained from unleashing on her for Molly's sake. As a matter of fact he was fairly certain Harold only got involved in _things_ to keep Jackie happy. But that was all conjecture at this point.

The guns, two handguns and a small caliber rifle, were in a hidden floorboard under her bed. Sherlock questioned her about it since she'd purchased the house after Mr. Hooper's death. Her response was that she'd learned a thing or two in twenty plus years of marriage to a man with his kind of 'extracurricular activities'. She said nothing was missing and that Tad must not be aware of them. That was good enough for him.

He arrived at the car park twenty minutes prior to the meeting time. It was completely deserted, just as he assumed it would be. Sherlock walked the perimeter of the park. It wasn't very large and took him less than seven minutes. By the time he'd finished a dark, late-model sedan pulled up. Jackie's young man got out of the backseat, a gun trained on the driver.

Sherlock watched as Tad walked her to the front of the car, one arm around her shoulders, his gun pointed at her temple. She wasn't shaking but he could see that she was scared. He locked eyes with her and tried to silently convey that he'd get her out of this. The small smile she returned to him strengthened his resolve. And he needed it. This move seemed out of character for the con-man and Sherlock wasn't sure what Tad was capable of. Not to mention his emotions were getting in his way. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind.

"One question," Sherlock called out.

"Yeah, what's that?" the criminal yelled back. There was about thirty feet separating them.

"What's your real name? I mean Tad Chancellor... Horrible alias." Sherlock heard Molly laugh.

"I'm not giving you any personal information, Mr. Holmes."

"What happened to first names? We're practically family and all," Sherlock said, stalling.

"Oh, I don't think Jackie will want to have much to do with me after I kidnapped her daughter. Although," he glanced at Molly. "she's not exactly fond of you, ya know?"

"I figured that out when I was six, you arsenugget," Molly shot back.

Tad ignored Molly's insult. "Where's the money, Holmes?"

"Do you take American Express Black? I'm afraid I don't usually carry that much on my person." He patted his chest, feigning innocence.

"Then how do you propose getting out of this situation with your girlfriend still breathing?"

Sherlock laughed. " _Girlfriend_? I thought you said that you looked into me, _Tad_. Not very good at at this, are you? Of course if you were you would have figured out about Jackie's money issues. Molly's not my girlfriend."

"Don't give me that shit. Your sexual exploits are well publicised in the tabloids. But really, seven times in one night? That seems a little farfetched." He leaned closer to Molly but kept his eyes on Sherlock. "Does he wear you out, honey?"

Sherlock's instinct was to lunge at he arsehole, but he had to keep him talking until he could get a shot or until Tad made a mistake. "That was all fake, as is this. Molly asked me to find out why a young American was dating her mother. She suspected you were attempting to get your hands on her savings and you were."

"I've heard a LOT of faking in my life, Holmes. What I heard in the bathroom this morning wasn't fake," the idiot responded.

Sherlock couldn't stop himself. "Yes, Molly and I were privy to some of your work last night. Or Jackie's work, I should say. She deserves a Bafta for that performance. However I wouldn't go around bragging about how often women have to fake their appreciation for your love making. A little free advice."

"You arrogant son of a bitch!" His grip tightened on Molly's shoulder. "You don't think I'll shoot her?"

"Well, I plan on stopping you, of course," Sherlock said confidently.

"I went through your room while you were in the shower. You didn't bring any guns, no weapons at all. I understand you consider yourself some kind of genius, but words aren't going to help, smart guy." He laughed.

"Unfortunately for you, you're wrong," Sherlock replied.

"Oh, really? You plan on beating me with words?"

"No, not necessarily." Sherlock pulled out the Sig Suaer 40 cal from his breast pocket. Just then a shot rang out and his heart felt like it literally stopped until he realised that Tad had fallen, not Molly. The shot came from the copse of trees to Sherlock's right, Tad went down like a lead weight and Molly stumbled sideways, then used the bonnet of the car to help get her footing. Suddenly six black clad figures rushed the car park.

Sherlock slowly placed his gun on the ground and he raised his hands in the air as he waited for the okay to go to Molly. He kept his eyes on her the whole time. She kept looking from Tad to Sherlock. Less than a minute later, he got the signal.

"It's all clear. Go ahead, Mr. Holmes," the closest agent said, and Sherlock ran towards his pathologist.

Molly was rushing toward him at the same time. He caught her around her waist and held her close. "Are you okay?" he asked, his face buried in her neck.

"Yes, I'm fine. He barely touched me, just jerked me around. Slapped me once… maybe twice. Though that might have been because I kneed him in the bollocks."

Sherlock pulled back and looked at her face. He couldn't help but smile even though he saw the angry red mark on her cheek. "Of course you did. I'd expect nothing less." He gently kissed her cheek then walked closer to the groaning con-man who was being restrained by two MI-6 agents. A rubber bullet to the shoulder didn't even start to pay this man for what he'd put Molly through.

"Agent…?" Sherlock was already dialing his phone.

"Matthews, sir." The young man held out a hand to Sherlock.

He shook the agent's hand and said, "I'd like exactly sixty seconds with the accused."

"I don't think…"

Sherlock winked and held up a finger to his lips, hushing the man. The phone was already ringing. "Ah, brother dear. Would you be so kind as to tell Agent Matthews that you authorise a sixty second _conversation_ between myself and Mr. Chancellor?" Pause. "Yes, she's fine." He looked over at Molly, who was talking to a female agent. "Thank you." Sherlock handed his phone to Matthews. "He wants to talk to you," he said before walking over to Tad.

The American was on his feet once again, flanked by two agents. "Oh please, you wouldn't hit a defenceless man. Something I've learned since I've been in England… you Brits, you have _honour_ ," Tad said, his lip curled in contempt.

Sherlock smiled as he removed his jacket, then stretched his neck, first to one side the the other. "You're right, we do. I however, don't give a shit about that right now. You hurt my friend and you missed something when you looked into me."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"There's really no point in knowing now, is there?" Sherlock said with his most unpleasant smile as he unbuttoned his cuffs.

"All right, Mr. Holmes," Matthews walked up to the detective and handed him back his mobile. "you have one minute."

"Thank you and can you take Dr. Hooper… somewhere else?" He turned to Tad, then stopped and called out to the agent again. "Actually, can you have her escorted back to her mother's house? I don't want her here at all."

The agent smiled and answered, "Of course, sir."

* * *

Molly was packing her and Sherlock's bags as her mother hovered behind her asking questions.

"How, Molly? How did you know that Tad wasn't who he said he was?" Jackie asked for the third time.

She closed Sherlock's suitcase and turned to look at her mother. "I just knew, mum. Okay? I've worked with Sherlock for a lot of years and I just… I just had a feeling."

"Or is it because an ugly old woman could never get an attractive young man like him? Is that it?"

Molly sighed. "No mum, it's not. Look, I'm sorry that…"

"No you're not! At least have the decency to admit that you could care less that I've had my heart broken by some con-man. I'm hurting here, Molly. And you're just leaving me like you always do. You're in such a rush to run back to London with your hot-shot detective…"

"You selfish cow!" Molly screamed. "I was kidnapped by that man. He held a gun to my head! I don't even have to ask Sherlock to know you were more concerned about Tad than me… it's the story of my life. So yes I'm leaving. _You_ deal with your broken heart and empty bank account on your own. And if you want to start acting like a proper mother, well, you have my number." She started to pick up both suitcases when Sherlock walked into the room… smiling.

"Mrs. Hooper," he said as he grabbed both bags then he looked at Molly and said, "Our car's waiting, sweetheart."

She nodded. "Goodbye, Mother."

Once seated in the back of the government car Molly took a good look at Sherlock and asked, "Is that blood on your shirt?"

"Possibly," he answered with a wave of his hand. "If you need to cry…"

"I'm not going to cry, Sherlock. I'm fine," she said, and even she heard the edge to her voice. Taking a deep breath, she remembered she owed the man a great deal, including an apology. "Look… I'm sorry."

"What for?" Sherlock said, looking genuinely confused.

"What I said earlier."

"I'd forgotten about that," he said with a laugh. "Besides you're more than forgiven. I've certainly said worse. You were quite upset."

Molly smiled and nodded, wondering if she could take back what she said about not crying.

"John and Mary send their love."

"That's nice. When did you talk to them?"

"On my way here. They were worried about us. Mycroft phoned them, I assume. Loves to gossip. I told them about what happened. Mary was especially fond of the bollocks kicking part."

She laughed and tried to relax but there was just too much tension. After everything that had happened she needed a glass of wine or a good shag (even a bad one would do at this point). A few minutes later she noticed that they were heading in the wrong direction. "Where are we going?"

"I booked us a room at a B&B nearby. I assumed you wouldn't want to stay at your mother's house." He paused and stared at her for a moment. "I hope that was okay?"

" _A_ room… for us?"

He stared at her for a moment then said, "Yes, and I woke up a very grumpy woman to get it. But seeing that they were empty and I offered to pay double, I'm not sure why she was complaining."

Molly smiled; she really wasn't looking forward to a car ride all the way back to London at the moment. Also it answered at least some questions she had lingering in her mind. "Are you aware that I love you?"

"Not officially, no."

"Well I do. And if you don't like it, then stop doing incredible things like saving my life and talking grumpy women into renting you rooms for me," she said as she scooted a little closer.

"Noted." He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, kissing the top of her head. "I didn't _actually_ save your life, though. Agent Matthews, as it turns out, made the shot. Would you like me to give you his number?"

"Is he the one who looked like Tom Hiddleston?"

"Who's Tom Hiddleston?" he asked.

She laughed. "Nevermind that. I'll let you know in the morning if I want his number."

Sherlock threw their bags on the floor and immediately started stripping Molly of her cardi and dress the moment they walked through the door of their room. She was down to her bra and knickers before she even had a chance to turn on a light.

"God… Sherlock," she moaned as he backed her into the wall next to the door. His lips were driving her crazy, licking and sucking on her neck.

"Mmmm," he hummed against her skin.

"Want you naked," she managed.

He pulled back and shucked his suit jacket. Molly kicked off her shoes and turned on the light next to the bed. "You know, _Sue_ may just be the grumpiest woman I've ever met in my life," she said as she took out her earrings.

Sherlock was working on his shoes and socks. "I _told_ things I suffer for you, Molly Hooper." He unbuttoned his shirt and Molly pushed it off his shoulders.

When he reached for his trousers she stopped him. "Let me. I couldn't do it this morning." She slowly undid the fastening and zip, then pushed the garment off his hips. As she looked down she said, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a lovely prick?"

"No, I don't believe so. I've been _called_ a prick before. By you as a matter of fact, just this morning, actually. But never…"

Molly laughed. "Well you do! Gorgeous!" She took him in hand and started stroking him slowly. His head fell back as he cursed. "Like that?"

"Yesssss."

"I want you inside me," she whispered.

His head snapped forward and he picked her up, tossing her onto the bed. He covered her body with his and kissed her breathless as he reached behind her and fumbled with her bra.

Molly couldn't help but laugh. "Should have gotten it off while we were standing."

Sherlock didn't seem think it was so funny. He huffed in frustration then moved his hands to the front of the bra and just pulled the flimsy material apart.

''You… you tore… ahhh… fuck that's sexy!" She grabbed his face and pulled him down for another kiss.

His mouth traveled down her chest, nibbling and sucking as he went, while his hand made its way inside her knickers and started working her into a frenzy. "Speaking of lovely things…" He thrust two fingers inside her and started pumping. "This is gorgeous!"

She was already close… just a little more...

Suddenly his fingers were gone. Molly looked up to see him sucking them clean. _Fuck_! Then he pulled her pants off with one hand as he sucked on her nipple, causing Molly to dig her nails into his scalp and beg for more. Smoothly, as he switched breasts, he grabbed for something on the bed side table. As he sat up Molly realised what he had.

"Where'd that come from?"

"It was a requirement with the room. As much as I paid for this," he gestured around them, "it was the least Sue could do for us." He rolled the condom on and positioned himself, then looked her deep in the eyes. "This isn't how I envisioned this weekend, Molly."

"Me either."

"Any regrets?."

"No… none." _Even if it breaks my heart_ , she added in her head. _Totally worth it._

He thrust forward and Molly's back arched involuntarily.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he said once fully seated.

"Yeah, you too," she whispered. _Oh, God… this is really happening,_ she thought as Sherlock drove into her over and over again. It was incredibly intense. He stayed close, kissing her constantly, anywhere he could reach. He stroked her hair and sucked her nipples. He told her she was perfect and beautiful. Her Molly Hooper… _beautiful_! Within minutes she felt her orgasm building again. It felt like a storm. She felt like she was about to break… physically, emotionally. Quite literally break from the sheer enormity of what they were doing, of what they'd been through that day.

Then it happened.

Sherlock's body tensed as he held her tightly, one hand fisted in her hair, his head buried in her neck. His end triggered hers and she came hard screaming his name.

They stayed like that for a minute or so then he rolled over and disposed of the johnnie. Molly instantly felt a bit chilled at the loss of his body. Sherlock must have noticed because he nudged her and she moved to the side so that he could cover her up with the duvet. He joined her, resting his head on her chest, his arms around her middle.

"Molly?" he said after a few minutes.

"Yeah Sherlock."

"Did you mean it? When you said you love me, did you mean that?" he asked.

It had been a day of firsts for Molly Hooper. The first time she'd ever been kidnapped and held at gunpoint. The first time she'd ever stood up to her mother. And the first time she'd ever had sex with Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps this wouldn't end in disaster.

"I did, actually."

"Good." He sighed. "Because I don't actually have that agent's phone number and I hate asking Mycroft for favours." He looked up with a smile. "Besides, I love you too and I understand it's better when these things go both ways."

She giggled and said, "A tad bit."

"Oh for God's sake, Molly! That was horrible!" he said, returning to his original position, though he was laughing so hard the bed was shaking.

Their laughter died down and Molly was running her fingers through his hair several minutes later when a thought struck her. "When did you stop faking?"

He picked up her hand and seemed to study it in lieu of answering her. As a matter of fact so much time passed she was certain he wasn't going to acknowledge her question at all. Finally he kissed the palm of her hand and said, "I don't think I ever was."

* * *

 _Okay, thank you all for reading. Drop me a line and let me know what you think. I love hearing from you all! ~Lil~_


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